


Bring Him Home

by shadowshrike



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: All of the Blue Lions get a cameo, Blue Lion Path, But Mercedes and Ashe play the biggest role, Comfort, Coping, Friendship/Love, Gen, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 21:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20121697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowshrike/pseuds/shadowshrike
Summary: Each of the Blue Lions handles the changes in their leader differently, but they all make the same vow. They won't leave him again, even if he can't be saved.





	Bring Him Home

**Author's Note:**

> Let me start off with the warning that there are a ridiculous number of support spoilers scattered throughout this fic. I may have made some mistakes since I didn't rewatch them before writing, but I tried to capture as much of the BL's unique personalities as I could.
> 
> This fic was inspired by the little tidbits you hear various characters say about Dimitri while he's in the throes of madness. I've always appreciated 'support network' stories of overcoming severe trauma rather than 'single savior' stories, so I wanted to explore how everyone contributed to Dimitri's recovery, not just Byleth. Also, I needed an excuse to appreciate the generous but surprisingly grounded members of Blue Lions I love so much (looking at you Ashe and Mercedes).

It shouldn’t have surprised Felix. Not after years of reminding the boar prince (or was that thing a ‘boar king’ now?) of what it was, telling it to its face and anyone who would listen that it could never be human. Dimitri was an animal, a savage, a beast in man’s clothing. Felix knew it better than anyone. He’d seen it. On that day so many years ago, he’d hated the creature he once might have called brother almost as much as he hated his father for letting their world fall apart in the pursuit of false ideals.

So why did it make his heart feel as though that damned spear had pierced it through when he laid eyes on the one-eyed monster?

Maybe it was being ignored that had riled Felix’s temper. Dimitri had been numb to his barbs at the academy, accepting every horrible judgment of his character without complaint, but he’d always talked to Felix as an old friend and asked for a spar all the same. Now, the beast spoke to no one. It haunted the shadows of the monastery, snapping at those who tried to brave the workings of its twisted mind. As far as Felix had seen, it didn’t sleep or eat, as though it only needed blood on its hands to sustain itself.

Maybe it did. Maybe Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, the last of his line, had finally died from loneliness and loss these past five years. Maybe his madness was a plea for someone to stop the beating of his heart so he could finally rest.

If that’s what he wanted, Felix wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Dimitri didn’t deserve such an easy end after all he had done. Until he could face his sins with the eyes and heart of a man, until he could answer to all those he had disappointed and who still needed him as a leader, Felix would make sure he stayed alive.

As for dragging the beast back from the brink, that task would have to fall to someone more capable. Felix didn’t do well with anyone he couldn’t beat some sense into, and as the creature was now, he’d surely push a spar until one of them ended up dead.

It seemed he’d have to rely on Ingrid or Sylvain, as much as it pained him to admit it.

Finding them over dinner was easy enough. Convincing them to do something about the boar proved much harder.

“I know you want to help him,” Ingrid said, ignoring Felix’s snarled protest and taking a bite of the fish they’d caught for dinner. Thank the Goddess that the monastery lake was still stocked enough to feed their rag-tag army, given that the surrounding countryside had been razed to the ground during the war. “But I honestly don’t know if there’s anything we can do. He’s so furious with the Empire, it’s like he doesn’t even recognize us.”

“Yeah, I mean, I tried to tell him all about my latest buxom beauties back at home, and he didn’t even scold me a little.” Sylvain leaned back in his seat, throwing his hands behind his head where they couldn’t see them fidget.

“Maybe it’s for the best we don’t push him.” Ingrid gestured with her fork in the direction of Fhirdiad. “It isn’t as though he could retake the throne as he is now, even if we could convince him to head to the capital.”

“Exactly. I wouldn’t ever say it to the professor’s face, but trying to follow Dimitri as if he’s still the person he was five years ago is a mistake. Assuming we survive assaulting the Empire head-on, who knows what he’ll do after she’s dead?”

“So you’re just going to give up on the boar?” Felix growled, slamming his fist on the table. A few other diners glanced over at them but swiftly returned to their meal when he sent them a blistering glare. Across the table, Ingrid had the decency to look guilty, while Sylvain merely shrugged.

“Look, he’s been my friend forever. He’s saved my ass a dozen times over and always had my back. But we can’t just ignore that he doesn’t care about anything except Edelgard’s head anymore.” The redhead closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m not sure if there’s any coming back from that. I want to believe there is but...you’ve seen what happened to him. I’m not saying I won’t stay with him and the professor. I just don’t want to cling to false hope that he’ll ever be our Dimitri again.”

“Sylvain is right, Felix. He’s been hurt too much by everything that’s happened. I understand his anger, I know we all feel that burning hatred for everything the Empire has taken from us, but he’s let it consume him. All we can do now is try to keep him alive.”

“That’s not good enough!” 

Felix’s furious response echoed across the dining hall, and this time no amount of glaring could get the other guards to look away. Only his former housemates didn’t stare, more than used to the swordsman’s temper by now.

They didn’t stare, but they did talk.

In the other corner of the dining hall, Annette and Mercedes had been sharing a meal as they reminisced about their time in the academy together. The topics were mostly lighthearted: shopping trips with friends, baking mishaps, and the silliest reasons they’d seen someone fail their certification. The current winner on that front was Sylvain, who missed his cavalry test the week of the Battle of the Eagle and Lion because three ladies accosted him at once outside the exam hall, demanding to know who his real girlfriend was. 

At the time, no one believed that he didn’t actually know any of those women. Ingrid chewed him out so hard for letting down the Blue Lions that Sylvain hadn’t joined them for dinner that night, even though he swore up and down the three female students were lying. Of course, after the battle, they’d learned Sylvain had been telling the truth all along. The women were a plant by Claude to weaken his competition before the big clash, and they’d been suckered right into his scheme.

Unfortunately, it was difficult to keep their conversation light with a minefield of sweet memories turned sour over the past five years. They couldn’t speak of the Black Eagles at all anymore, or of Dedue’s cooking, or even of Rhea. It didn’t help either that the discussion being held by old friends across the room was so heated that Mercedes’ homemade candies couldn’t hope to sweeten its bitterness. Annette’s cheerful smile dropped as she watched Felix hiss something else to his friends and storm out of the room.

At last, giving in to the urge to gossip, she leaned over to share a conspiratorial whisper with Mercedes. “...do you think they’re talking about...you know…?”

“About what? Lady Rhea?” Mercedes replied, touching her finger to her lips in thought. That’s where her worries had been lately, especially knowing that she might be held captive by the Empire for any number of horrible reasons. The sooner they could free Rhea, the sooner they could put an end to this awful war.

“Not, not her...you know…” Annette’s whisper grew more urgent as she rested a hand on her friend’s forearm. “ _ Dimitri _ .”

Mercedes squealed in surprise. “Oh! Oh yes, I suppose that could be the case. He’s been acting rather not like himself, hasn’t he?”

“Not like himself? Mercie, that’s the understatement of the century! It’s like he’s gone totally crazy, talking about ripping Edelgard’s head from her shoulders with his bare hands and that he’ll kill anyone who gets in his way. He doesn’t eat with us, doesn’t train with us...I don’t think he even sleeps anymore!”

“It  _ is _ worrying when you put it that way,” Mercedes conceded. 

“What’s worrying is that the professor still lets him decide what we do,” Annette grumbled, giving her dinner a savage poke. “I mean, I want it to be like it was back at the academy, too, but it’s like he’s a completely different person. I’m scared there isn’t anything we can do to help him.”

A firm shake of the healer’s head refuted her friend’s conclusion. “There is always some way to help. I refuse to believe that he doesn’t remember anything from before. I think...maybe…” Mercedes paused, lifting one of her caramels and pondering it. “I think maybe, he’s like one of the monastery cats.”

“Like a cat?” Annette laughed despite herself. “I’d say he’s more like those giant, ferocious red wolves we used to hunt as students than a housecat.”

A small giggle slipped past the other woman’s lips, too. “I admit, he can be rather intimidating. I just meant that he’s lost and lonely. You remember how Buckles used to scratch and bite whenever someone would try to pet her, right?”

“How could I forget? She almost ruined my uniform right before inspection!”

“But she didn’t stay that way forever. She’d lost her home and her family, and didn’t know who to trust anymore,” Mercedes said, sympathy softening her voice. “All she needed was a place to stay, a little love, and patience. I think Dimitri is the same way.”

“But we’re all right here!” Annette whined, pushing away her plate. “We’re right in front of him, trying to help him, but he keeps skulking off to brood on his own.”

_ Just like my father _ , she thought bitterly. She crammed another handful of sweets into her mouth before she started up a conversation she didn’t want to have. If Mercedes’ knowing looking was anything to go by, her friend had seen right through her but was kind enough not to press.

Instead, Mercedes carried on with the original conversation, “Maybe people trying to talk to him and help him directly after so many years of being all alone is too much for him. Just like Buckles was scared about being petted at first, I wonder if all this pressure to be his old self and reunite the Kingdom is making him scared to reach out.”

“So you think it’s like Sylvain pretending he’s stupid so he doesn’t have people expecting a lot of him?” Annette wondered, swallowing down the sweets with a wince. That may have been too many at once. “Dimitri’s acting all insane and bloodthirsty so he doesn’t have to think about his responsibilities?”

“I don’t think it’s quite that simple. And I don’t think he’s doing it on purpose like Sylvain does,” Mercedes sighed. “But I do think he doesn’t know how to heal, and he’s afraid of what it will mean if he tries. He hasn’t had people depending on him in years...you know Dimitri was never good at disappointing others he cares about.”

“He’s being pretty disappointing right now…”

“Annie!”

“...I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to do, Mercie. I want to help him, but I’ve never been any good at this kind of thing.” Annette hung her head, resting her chin on her hands.

A gentle hand patted her back, complemented by Mercedes’ serene smile. “Then leave it to me. It might take some time, but I’m sure I can get through to him. I don’t believe for a second that Dimitri really wants to be left all alone and hurt all those people, no matter what he says.”

Annette wished she shared Mercie’s faith in their old house leader. She’d just have to believe in her friend instead.

It took Mercedes three full days to decide where to begin. In the meantime, she watched dozens of attempts made by other members of their little band to crack Dimitri’s frigid shell. Most were completely ignored. The should-be-king stared into the Monastery’s rubble without response to their questions, as if he’d gone deaf from the voices he talked to at night. He only seemed to react directly when one of two things happened: someone asked him to do something other than destroy the Emperor, in which case he puffed himself up like an angry wildcat and barked at them to stay out of his way if they didn’t want to die, or someone touched him and he pulled away so violently Mercedes feared he might hurt himself or someone else in his hurry to escape. 

Ingrid had almost gotten her arm dislocated in her most recent attempt to make sure Dimitri could hear her concerned questions. He’d smacked her hand off of him with such force that Mercedes had to use a heal spell to mend the damage before their next battle. Ingrid looked forlorn the entire time Mercedes worked on her shoulder, slinking away with a soft thank you and a murmur that she didn’t want to talk about what happened. That was the last straw for Mercedes - she couldn’t wait any longer. She needed to try something for the sake of all her friends.

If Dimitri couldn’t be talked to or tolerate compassionate touch as he was now, then she would try the same thing she had with the monastery’s stray cats. Food. 

The problem was, she didn’t know what Dimitri liked. He’d never been particularly picky about dinner at the academy, and without Dedue’s thorough knowledge of his liege’s preferences, she doubted anybody else could tell her what meals always brought a smile to his lips. He might not be willing to eat the same things he did several years ago, anyway; it seemed like any reminders of the past only made his sickness worse.

After an evening of deliberation, she resolved to try her sweets first. Annette always said they were the best thing she made in the kitchen. If Mercedes could get Dimitri to eat just one, maybe that would start to build up his trust again.

The next day, she arrived at his silent vigil with a plate of small, hard candies. He didn’t turn to acknowledge her presence. Anyone watching the two of them would have thought the pair an odd couple - Mercedes, a delicate lady full of the Goddess’s grace, next to Dmitri, a huge, savage beast with matted fur and a spear serving as its wicked teeth.

“Hello, Dimitri. I thought you might be hungry,” Mercedes said, smiling.

She held out the plate. He continued staring into the rubble.

“...it’s alright if you don’t want to talk. I don’t mind,” she continued. “I’ll leave these here in case you’d like some later.”

The clang of her dish against demolished stone echoed painfully through the empty chamber. For a moment, Mercedes considered wishing Dimitri well before she walked away. She ultimately thought better of it. If she brought any attention to their concern for his wellbeing, it would only provoke another fit of rage, and the Goddess could hear her prayers for him whether or not he knew of them.

However, when she returned that night and the tray was still completely full, Mercedes realized this wouldn’t be a prayer the Goddess would answer quickly or easily.

Not one to lose faith, Mercedes tried again and again. She set out a new plate every morning and retrieved it every evening. Every night when she returned, she was disappointed to find the plate was still untouched, save the occasional ants who had made a feast of her confections. 

Then, two weeks later, a miracle happened. Dedue returned.

Dimitri was still cold and angry towards the army afterward despite tolerating Dedue’s insistence to stay glued to his side. Mercedes feared even the return of one of the ‘ghosts’ who had haunted the future king’s every thought wouldn’t ease his suffering. But then, several days later, a few of the sweets finally disappeared. When she asked Dedue if he had eaten them while keeping his eternal watch over Dimitri, he shook his head. 

Mercedes grinned as she gathered up the plate to bring back to the kitchens. Feeling more confident about Dimitri’s responsiveness, she asked, “Did you enjoy them, Your Highness? I can bring you more tomorrow if you did.”

For an oppressive moment, she thought he might not say anything. The silence dragged on as she watched his jaw work, fighting over what answer he wanted to give.

“It was too sweet,” he growled, his voice hoarse from disuse other than roaring in battle.

Mercedes smiled in return, “I’ll make some adjustments to the recipe for tomorrow.”

No response.

It wasn’t until the next morning she realized she wasn’t sure how to make her sweets less...well...sweet.

With Dedue scarcely leaving the prince’s side, there was really only one cook available to help her, but she felt bad for waking him so early without any warning. He had been working tirelessly to keep people’s spirits up since everything fell apart. She hoped the pastries she had baked would be apology enough as she knocked on his door.

A youthful face with bright eyes and disheveled silver locks greeted her as the entrance swung open only a minute later. “Mercedes? Is something wrong?”

“Oh no, nothing’s wrong at all,” she said. “It’s just that I could use your help in the kitchen this morning. Dimitri finally ate some of my candies yesterday but he said they were too sweet. You’re much better at cooking spicy things - I was hoping you could help me.”

“His Highness finally ate something?” Ashe’s disbelieving laugh rang through the halls. “That’s great news! I’d be happy to help in any way I can. Just let me get dressed, okay?”

Mercedes clasped her hands together in delight. “Thank you so much! I already baked some pastries for breakfast when you come down. I’ll get the kitchen cleaned up for you, too.”

She was already off and running to do as she promised before Ashe could tell her she didn’t need to take care of all that. He chuckled and closed his door so he could get dressed. 

Sometimes he thought that Mercedes was one of the guardian angels who watched over the knights in his legends. Ashe could never hope to match her faith, but he swore to try to model himself after her goodness. It was the same way he strove to mirror the traits he admired in his other friends: Ingrid’s resolve, Felix’s strength, Sylvain’s love of his friends, Dedue’s loyalty, Annette’s work ethic, and a younger Dimitri’s insistence to treat others well regardless of rank.

Ashe sighed as he tugged his overcoat on - there was a subject he’d been trying not to think about. 

During their Academy days, he’d idolized the young prince. Dimitri studied and trained harder than anyone Ashe knew, but he always found time to help others when they needed it, too. He’d even taken a personal interest in helping Ashe attain his dreams of becoming a knight. It had flummoxed Ashe at the time, being asked to treat the crown prince like any other student, or more mortifying, a friend, but Dimitri remained patient through his unease. In the end, the considerate prince had agreed to back off for the sake of Ashe’s comfort as long as they continued spending time together. 

Serving someone as kind and insightful as that was the highest honor a knight could hope for. If only they could have remained so young and idealistic forever.

There was no time for regretting the past. The sacrifices his friends and family had made throughout this war would all be for naught if they couldn’t defeat the Empire, and the only one who stood any chance of leading them to victory was their rightful king. Ashe still believed in the prince he’d admired what seemed like a lifetime ago. Maybe it was naive, but if Mercedes thought she had found a way to finally break through the shroud of torment surrounding Dimitri, Ashe would do everything in his power to help his liege recover, starting with one thing he was good at: cooking.

The halls were barren at this hour of the morning, even the owls seeming to rest with the imminent dawn. It wasn’t until he reached the kitchen Ashe saw another soul at all. Mercedes was finishing scrubbing the pots, the sound of metal and rushing water audible from several yards away. As he approached, Ashe saw the back of Lord Rodrigue holding a quick chat with the healer over breakfast.

“Are you sure?” Ashe overhead Mercedes hum as he walked closer. “He can’t taste anything at all?”

“Not since he lost his family,” Rodrigue confirmed.

Mercedes tutted and began drying out the current pan with a clean rag. “That’s awful. But why would he lie?”

“He does many things I don’t understand anymore,” the older man lamented. His head hung low enough for Ashe to feel his shame, though he couldn’t see the lord’s expression. “I fear I have failed him and his father. I promised I would save His Highness if he strayed, but look what’s become of him these past years. He’s suffered so greatly in facing the loss of those he loved alone, it’s made him forget anything but that pain. 

“I should have seen it and put a stop to it when he was a child. I was so blinded by my own hurt that I took him at his word that he had recovered. I looked the other way when I saw glimpses of the scars that day left on him. And now...now, he won’t even speak with me.” Rodrigue’s hands clenched white at his sides, despair thick on his tongue.

“Oh, don’t worry about that part, Lord Rodrigue. The Goddess will help us find a way to reach him,” Mercedes chirped, wearing a comforting smile. “He’s starting to eat again, and Dedue says he’s able to sleep as long as he’s being guarded, which is a good sign. I’m sure he’ll be speaking to us before too much longer.”

“...you really do the Goddess’s work, Mercedes. She would be pleased by your faith,” Rodrigue mumbled.

Mercedes laughed and set the pan down. “That’s so nice of you to say so. Maybe I’m just being stubborn, but I can’t believe that the kind Dimitri we all knew is really gone. Just standing near him I can feel how upset he is...if he can learn to trust even one of us again, I’m sure he’ll be able to overcome this. We’ll never abandon him no matter how many times he asks us to.”

“That’s right,” Ashe chimed in forcefully, prompting the other two to turn towards him. He hadn’t intended to disturb them, but he couldn’t watch any longer and say nothing. “I still believe in His Highness, too. He stuck with me when Lord Lonato died, and I’ll do the same for him. He’s been starting to talk about more than his revenge lately…I know we’re close to a breakthrough.”

Rodrigue’s eyes still glistened with guilt, but he smiled at the conviction he heard in Ashe’s voice, glancing between the two of them. “It’s good to know he has such wonderful people watching over him. If...When he does accept his responsibilities as king, he’s going to need you even more.”

“And we’ll be ready,” Ashe stated, while Mercedes nodded along.

“That’s comforting to hear.” Rodrigue reached across the countertop to grab two of the many peach pastries Mercedes had baked to start the morning, tucking them into a napkin. The morning bell chimed as he gave a half-bow. “I’m afraid as much as I would like to talk more, I have to take my leave for now. I promised myself I would try to talk to His Highness again this morning. I’ll see if I can’t get him to eat some breakfast while I’m at it.”

“Thank you, Lord Rodrigue.”

The lord waved off their thanks as he exited the kitchen, heading straight for the heart of the Monastery where Dimitri was sure to be looming as usual. Once he was out of earshot, Ashe’s brow furrowed, “I’m sorry for overhearing, but did you say that His Highness can’t taste anything?” A solemn nod answered his question. “...so this may not work after all.”

“Don’t look so disheartened, Ashe. He still ate the candies,” Mercedes reminded him. She waved him over to her side, holding out his favorite blue apron.

Ashe popped it over his neck, the familiar weight a comfort during these confusing times. Here, in the kitchen, there was no doubt about who he was or what he should be doing. His fingers reached back to fasten the apron tight with routine motions. 

Ashe took a steadying breath. “You’re right, Mercedes. Even if he couldn’t taste it, he ate them. The only reason I can think he would do that is because he wanted to reward your hard work.”

“That does sound like him, doesn’t it?”

“...it does.” Maybe not like the monstrous man they’d found on the monastery grounds, but the studious prince who believed in every member of the Blue Lions. “Alright, so what are we going to make?”

The pair decided on hot candies, not wanting to embarrass the prince and cause him to withdraw further if he realized they knew about his lacking sense of taste. Ashe had Mercedes create the candy base while he prepared the spice mixture. They didn’t have much in the pantry since the greenhouse had only recently been restored, but between the ginger root and peppers, he was able to throw together something that was tasty with a real punch. He hoped it would be fiery enough that even someone with no taste buds would be able to feel the difference.

“Do you really think this will work?” Ashe wondered as he set the last of the scarlet sugar balls down on a clean plate. They were already sticky to the touch in the humid air of the open kitchen.

“I’m sure of it!”

It didn’t work, of course, at least not the first try. Dimitri was so cross after speaking with Rodrigue that he snapped at Ashe for even stepping foot past the pews in his direction.

“Whatever you want from me, go away,” he snarled without turning to face his intruder. Ashe swore that the fur on his coat bristled like a wolf’s hackles.

“Um...ah...okay, your Highness. I’ll just leave these...here…” Ashe mumbled as he hastily set the candies on the pew next to him. “They’re from Mercedes. We made them less sweet like you asked.”

There was a pregnant pause, and for a moment, Ashe wasn’t sure if he was about to be thanked or chased out of the room at spearpoint. In the end, all he got was a wordless grunt. Dimitri’s tense shoulders lowered, though, and the death grip on his spear slackened. How lucky that lethal thing was a relic; surely any other spear would have snapped in two by now with how violently the powerful man clutched to it.

Still, it was progress. If they could keep this up a few more weeks, maybe they would finally have their leader back and be able to talk some sense into his military strategy. They only needed to make sure he stayed alive a little longer and no one else important to him got so badly injured he fell back into complete madness.

When Rodrigue fell to save the prince in the next battle, Ashe wondered if Dimitri was truly cursed by the Goddess.

That evening, the prince retreated to his quarters for the first time since they’d all reunited. No one was allowed inside, not even Dedue, who found some comfort by standing guard at the door instead. For the remainder of the night, no sound escaped those walls. Not screaming, nor tears, nor the crazed muttering at ghosts they all pretended not to hear. Just an oppressive silence that made the quiet of the monastery even eerier.

At dawn, the door cracked open.

“Ashe,” Dmitri croaked to Dedue, knowing he would still be waiting outside. “I’d like to have breakfast with him. In here.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.”

The entire trip towards the prince’s quarters, Ashe fretted that he shouldn’t be the one doing this. He was never that close with Dimitri in the first place, and he didn’t know what he could say that would be of any comfort. This was the sort of thing a person like the professor should do, or Dimitri’s childhood friends, or Dedue, or even Mercedes who had been looking out for him all this time. Ashe didn’t have anything of value to offer a prince.

Unless Dimitri had come to that conclusion on his own and finally decided to end his life? 

That was ridiculous, Ashe thought, cursing his paranoia. He still had to swallow a dry lump in his throat as Dedue stepped aside to let him into the proverbial lion’s den with a tray full of food.

“Um...Your Highness? You asked to see me?” Ashe mumbled, letting the doors swing shut behind him.

Dimitri looked smaller without his cloak and armor. He could never be considered a slight man, not like Ashe, but he seemed more human than animal for once sitting on his bed in only his nightwear and eyepatch. He lifted his drooping head to examine his visitor with a cool blue eye, puffy from lack of sleep. In Ashe’s optimistic opinion, he looked tired rather than vicious today. Exhausted, even.

“...yes,” Dimitri murmured. The feral scrape of his voice had softened. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Of course, Your Highness. What can I do for you?”

Dmitri tapped the empty space beside him on the bed. Startled, Ashe hurried to comply by setting the tray on his empty desk (since when had Dimitri’s desk ever been so clear of study materials?) and taking a seat a respectful distance from the prince. He hadn’t the slightest idea what was running through Dimitri’s mind. They’d been trying to get him to open up for months now. Had something Rodrigue said before he died finally made it through?

Deliberately, Dimitri pushed out a few more sentences, his eye fixed on his hands in his lap rather than Ashe. “You told me once...that you were a thief before Lord Lonato took you in.”

There was no question yet, but the prince seemed reluctant to say more, so Ashe nodded. “Yes, that’s right.” When Dimitri remained silent, he continued in a pained tone, “Truthfully, I did a lot of awful things to people during those days, even though I knew it was wrong. If it weren’t for Lord Lonato teaching me to read and helping me find my true passion, I might have been one of the thieves ransacking the monastery.”

A silent accusation of  _ ‘You would have killed me’ _ hung in the air.

“...right,” Dimitri rumbled. “But once you saw another path, you chose righteousness.”

Ashe shrugged, “I suppose. When I was young, I just wanted to be like the knights in my storybooks. Everything else fell into place from there. I had a lot to make right after all that time as a thief.”

“A lot to make right…” Dimitri wondered aloud, and suddenly, Ashe understood why he’d been called here.

Taking a risk, he placed his hand over one of the prince’s, fully expecting to be thrown off or roared at to leave. The only thing that happened was a minute furrow of Dimitri’s brow.

“You never can really make it right, you know. All those people I hurt...even if I were able to track every single one down and give them everything I stole, it wouldn’t undo the suffering I caused. You can’t undo the past…but…” He squeezed the much larger hand under his own gently. “...you can choose not to be that person anymore.”

“How?” A single rasped syllable, tension radiating through the prince’s trembling fingers.

Ashe pursed his lips and raised his eyes heavenward. That had been the most difficult question for him, too, when he’d turned his life around. He’d had the luck of it happening much younger, with much less baggage to unload, but he still looked in the mirror and saw a boy-thief pretending to be a just man sometimes. Would he act the same way if he hadn’t been a delinquent? Maybe his life of pursuing righteousness was a selfish act in itself, trying to make himself feel better for something he could never take back.

In the end, what he learned was that it didn’t matter why he chose to do good. What mattered is that he kept doing it.

“It isn’t easy,” Ashe admitted, lowering his gaze to where their hands laid. “The guilt doesn’t go away. You have to decide to face your past and say that it won’t hold you hostage. You have to accept that the ugly chapters of your life will always be a part of you, but they don’t define you. You have to choose who you want to be every day from now on.”

Dimitri’s throat worked and teeth ground, fighting to force out more thoughts. “I...am not certain I can.”

“That’s why you have us. All of us.” Ashe gestured vaguely towards the rest of the monastery where knights, friends, professors, and soldiers who had all taken up the Kingdom’s banner resided. “There isn’t a single Blue Lion you haven’t touched in some way. I know we weren’t there when you needed us most, but we’re here now to help guide you and share your burdens. I hope you can forgive us for leaving you to face your demons alone for so long.”

“You are not the ones whose sins need to be forgiven…” The prince’s voice cracked.

“I think everyone could use a little forgiveness.” Ashe corrected gently with a tiny smile. “So if it helps...I forgive you, Your Highness. And I believe in you.”

The trembling in Dimitri’s hands intensified until Ashe feared he might break his own fingers with how hard he gripped them to keep them still. His lips parted to form more words, a thanks or a denial or a curse, but all that escaped was a tiny choked sob. Folding in on himself furiously, that one small sound gave way to more, cries and wails of agony so loud that Ashe feared Dedue might run in and lop his head off for distressing the prince further.

“It’s...ah....it’s alright…” Ashe stammered. His one hand already usurped by the distraught prince, he used to other to try to rub a comforting circle on Dimitri’s back like Lord Lonato had done for him when he had crying fits as a child after listening to ghost stories. 

It felt strange to be doing this to his liege, but he clearly needed it right now. Ashe tried not to think about the last time someone had shown the man this kind of familial affection - he’d been framed for murder and self-exiled, his parents were long dead, Lord Rodrigue was often away, and Felix treated Dimitri as more of a verbal punching bag than a brother. It was hard to imagine Dedue doing something like this either. For as kind as the man was, he didn’t deal well with emotion, and Dimitri had always been too proud to let anyone take care of him when his sleepless nights or headaches struck.

None of that mattered now. Ashe had enough to focus on with a man twice his size falling into him as though he couldn’t find the strength to hold himself up any longer. 

It was possibly the most unpleasant and awkward hug Ashe had ever been a part of. The stench of battle still clung to Dimitri’s shaggy mane and his large body overwhelmed the other man’s slighter frame, but Ashe remained unspeakably proud to have the honor of helping his prince find himself again. He cradled the blonde-haired head against his shoulder without a word, listening to the ugly, nearly inhuman howls of grief until they slowed into hiccuping gasps. Even with Dimitri only having one working eye, Ashe was certain his coat would be soaked by the time he was done.

Several minutes later, Dimitri straightened as the last of it escaped him in a heaving breath. He released Ashe’s hand he’d latched onto somewhere within that unexpected outpouring of emotion, wiping his face discreetly, as if what just happened could be hidden somehow, and cleared his throat.

“My apologies, Ashe...that was...not my intent,” he mumbled. Ashe swore he saw a tinge of pink clinging to the cheeks of his future king.

“I don’t mind, Your Highness. Everyone needs that sometimes,” Ashe replied, pulling back to a respectful distance once again. Dimitri might not be in a snapping mood anymore, but Ashe wasn’t so cruel as to exacerbate the vulnerability he must have been feeling. “And perhaps it’s none of my business, but from what I’ve heard, I think you are long overdue.”

“...Perhaps you are right,” the prince admitted, closing his good eye, now swollen from little sleep and fresh tears.

“I can leave the tray here if you’d like to rest more,” Ashe offered, trying not to stare at how haggard the other man looked. “I think all of us could use some extra hours after that last battle.”

“You don’t need to lie for the sake of my pride,” Dimitri chided softly. “I know I haven’t been sleeping well enough.”

“Then will you allow me to fetch you some tea? There’s one that always helped me with my nightmares after Lord Lonato died.”

“...yes, thank you, Ashe.” 

Dimitri laid down as Ashe stood, straightening his coat as though that would be enough to hide the dark spot on his shoulder that gave away what just transpired. It had been so long since he’d heard the prince tell anyone thank you, Ashe didn’t even care that Dimitri rolled over to sleep before he left the room. It wasn’t as though he’d gotten much use of his royal manners recently.

When his fingertips touched the doorknob, Ashe was interrupted by the prince’s tired voice.

“...Ashe? One other thing.”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Tell the others we’re retaking the capital. I won’t turn my back on my people any longer.”

Ashe smiled at the door. “I think you deserve to give that news yourself, Your Highness...We’ve missed you.” 


End file.
